Plum Crisp
by what evil lurks
Summary: Merle's trying hard to fit in at the prison with Team Grimes but it ain't easy. Carol decides to give him a helping hand. In a manner of speaking. Rated T for themes and Dixon-mouth. Later chapters M.
1. Chapter 1

**Plum Crisp**

**Author's note: first few chapters are really short; later ones will be longer. Yes, in possibly a world first, this story is **_**Marol.**_** Hope you enjoy.**

Carol knew exactly when the seeds had been sown; the words that had led to her being locked alone in a pantry with Merle Dixon. That had led to her locking the two of them in there together.

"Sure would be easier if there were some hookers around," Daryl had said.

He and Merle had come back from hunting, with bruises on their faces and corresponding wounds on their knuckles, and it didn't take a genius to work out that the two brothers had been fighting again. Merle had returned all full of piss and vinegar from having taken down a deer himself. As he carried it into the prison yard across his broad shoulders, clearly enjoying the reception the deer bought him, he bluffly ribbed Daryl about his own lack of success that day.

So venison was on the menu later that evening, when Carol took a plateful of hot food out to the yard where Daryl was busy sluicing off some knives. Rick was just ahead of her, and the two men nodded to her, Daryl wiping his hands on a clean rag before taking the plate. He picked up a strip of the seared venison and tilted his head back to feed it in.

"Those bruises Daryl – they something I'm gonna have to deal with?" Rick asked in his solemn way.

Daryl chewed and swallowed, then replied," Hell no, Rick, just Merle lettin' off some steam is all. I gave as good as I got."

"I don't doubt that," answered Rick with a small smile, and lingered, not yet satisfied.

Daryl frowned a little, neat brows drawing together into V's. "Look, it ain't been easy for Merle bein' here, and he ain't got any of his usual party tricks to help deal; booze, drugs, speed, fightin', fuckin'." Daryl counted them off unfolding the fingers of one hand as he spoke. He shrugged a little. "If goin' a few rounds with me every now and then helps keep him from bein' such a pain in the ass, then I don't got a problem with it. 'Sides, you think I don't enjoy smackin' him down once in a while?"

Carol tried to suppress a smile at Daryl's last comment as she began to walk back to the building. She caught a quick flash of white as Rick grinned suddenly, the rare grin gone nearly as quickly as it came.

"Alright then," Rick replied, gaze fixed firmly on Daryl's face, "but I don't want this getting outa hand, understand?"

"Got it."

Rick nodded in approval, and followed in Carol's footsteps.

Daryl took another piece of meat and muttered quietly, "Sure would be easier if there were some hookers around."

**To be continued….**

**Don't worry, Carol's wardrobe doesn't stretch to impersonating a prostitute. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: first few chapters are really short; later ones will be longer. Yes, in possibly a world first, this story is **_**Marol.**_

**Guess I should mention: the threat from Woodbury has evaporated (overrun with walkers?), Andrea and Merle are at the prison, and Tyreese's crew and Michonne, aren't. Now that we've got that sorted…**

**Hope you enjoy…**

Once sown, those seeds quickly took root. Lying in her bunk that night, Carol reviewed the list of Merle's coping mechanisms in her mind. _Booze_ – not much they could do about that; what little alcohol they had was usually either shared out between them straight away or saved for special occasions, and there'd barely be enough for Merle anyway. He was a man of big appetites.

_Drugs_ – no hope there. Moral and legal considerations had long since fallen by the wayside, but from a practical standpoint any drugs they came across went straight to Hershel for medicinal purposes. Even recreational drugs could come in handy: weed helped stop puking, and there was nothing like heroin when it came to dealing with pain.

_Speed._ Carol assumed Daryl wasn't referring to the drug, since he'd mentioned speed as a whole separate category. Her thoughts went to Merle's Bonneville, which Daryl had maintained as best he could. She'd thought his dedication to keeping the bike in good trim was not just a common-sense consideration, but a touchstone of his hopes that he would see Merle again. There'd be hell to pay if the bike wasn't lookin' good. Despite Daryl's best efforts, the bike was a lot shinier now that Merle was back in charge of it. That was the machine of a man who did indeed feel the need for speed. But she didn't see how he could ride it with only one hand, and besides they didn't have gas to spare for goofing off. She frowned to herself. Maybe she'd suggest to Rick that next supply run, Merle and Daryl went along together on the bike. They could open it up, out on the open road and scream into the breeze.

_Fighting._ Between Rick and Daryl, it seemed they had this one covered. Rick had Merle on walker patrol twice as much anyone else and he took to it with gusto, clearing the fenceline daily and keeping up a solid stream of invective against the walkers as he did so. Any excess energy mostly appeared to be cleaned out by him scrapping with Daryl out in the woods every few days. She wondered if Daryl deliberately provoked him into it to clear the air or whether it just came about naturally in what passed for conversation between the brothers; they were both hotheads.

_Fucking_. Maybe that was something she could help with.

**To be continued.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: first few chapters are really short; later ones will be longer. **

**Guess I should mention: the threat from Woodbury has evaporated (overrun with walkers?), Andrea and Merle are at the prison, and Tyreese's crew and Michonne, aren't. Now that we've got that sorted…**

**Thanks to my lovely reviewers. I'm so glad you're enjoying it – even the Carylers!**

**Onwards…**

Once she seriously started contemplating the idea of having sex with Merle Dixon, Carol began to lay plans.

Though she did not consider herself to be the most attractive woman in their group, an appellation that surely went to Andrea, she was not too concerned about whether or not Merle would be interested; whether or not she was _his type_. She was a woman and she had a pulse, _ergo _she was Merle Dixon's type. And if she had any doubts about her ability to seduce Merle, being long years out of practice, they were instantly quashed by imagining Daryl's voice in her head, giving her advice. "Yer overthinkin' it. Just wear a low-cut top and put ya hand on his knee and Merle'll take care of the rest."

She was not too fussed, either, about whether or not she was attracted to Merle. She had put up with Ed all those years, and it was a sorry reflection on that choice that someone like Merle could possibly be seen as an improvement. But he had a certain rough charm, when he chose to exercise it, and he was a fit healthy man with a muscular body. People used the expression "men have needs". Well women had them too, and she was sure that once they got started, nature would take its course. And if it proved a little recalcitrant, well… there was always lubricant.

No, the real questions were those of when, and where, and how did they get any privacy in a place where no one could disappear for a few hours without telling someone where they were going. And would Merle behave like a prick about it afterwards, disrespect her, and tease "Darylena" about having been around her for a year and still not having _dipped his wick_ when it had only taken Merle five minutes to _rustle up some sugar_; or would he know when he was onto a good thing and keep his trap shut, or at least not swinging _too_ freely, in the hopes of a repeat performance? Well, that was something she had no control over, so she'd just have to cross her fingers, if not her legs.

But when, and where, and how. Those were things within her jurisdiction. And she had learned from life with Ed that sometimes the best way to hide something was within plain view.

"Pass the beans," Daryl said brusquely as everyone served themselves at supper one evening. Carol had already portioned out the meat, and they were enjoying being able to choose from an unusual abundance of "fresh" vegetables, including green beans. Maggie and Glenn had come across a treasure trove of frozen goods in a small remote cabin that still had its solar power system working. The sun did not stop shining for something as insignificant as a worldwide zombie apocalypse.

"You forgot the magic word, baby bro," Merle scolded him with broad bonhomie. "_Please_. P-L-E-E-Z. Ain't that how it's spelled, Carl?"

Carl smiled a little uncertainly. He was not used to Merle being friendly. His last experiences of Merle had been back at the quarry, when Merle's behaviour had been predictable only in that it depended on what he had lately ingested from his stash, and was almost always loud and unpleasant. It had given Shane the opportunity to reinforce the "drugs are bad" message to Carl. Like Carl was really gonna get the opportunity to ever try anything. _Grownups._

"Don't it got an "e" on the end?" Axel chipped in.

"_Please_ pass the fuckin' beans," Daryl amended, even more tersely, and Carol's lips twitched. It seemed that the grumpier Daryl got, the more Merle enjoyed stirring the possum.

Carol had bathed before supper, and had taken "mental Daryl's" advice on wearing the lowest cut top she had. It was still quite demure, but she had noticed earlier, when she had taken care to lean forward as she passed a bowl across the table to Merle, that his eyes had automatically tracked the shadows of her cleavage. _Men_. Sometimes they were as predictable as night following day.

She had chosen the time after supper as the best possible window of opportunity for H-Hour based on several reasons.

It would be the easiest time of day to get a little privacy; Carl would soon be off to bed, Beth should be pre-occupied with getting Li'l Ass.. _Judith_ down for the night. Maggie and Glenn would be off … doing whatever it was Maggie and Glenn did. Hershel would be studying his Bible for a while before putting out his lamp. Andrea slept early these days, usually being assigned the midnight watch. Daryl was scheduled on shift up in the watchtower, and Rick would speak with him for a few minutes before going off to check the perimeter. And Axel was… well it didn't really matter what Axel was doing.

Since all the tasks for the day would be finished, there would be no reason for any interruptions, and hopefully both she and Merle would be relaxed and able to concentrate on the task in hand. So to speak.

And, importantly, it being the end of the day, Merle would have cleaned up and showered before the meal. There was nothing like walker gunk splattered over a person to lower one's libido.

The company ate in silence for a while, savouring the good meal. Despite her prosaic approach to the evening's plans, Carol did not feel quite as serene as she appeared, and she took several slow deep breaths before quietly coming out with it.

"Merle, are you free after supper?"

Merle looked at her in surprise. It seemed to her there was some wariness there too, but it was hard to tell. "Maybe… ." he rasped. "Why?"

"I want to re-arrange some of the stores on the upper shelves in one of the pantries. I could do with a hand."

Merle's blue gaze narrowed and hardened, and she realised how badly she'd phrased that. For once Axel's over-enthusiastic blundering-in was a welcome diversion.

"I could help you with that Carol. I'm free," he offered eagerly.

Carol thought quickly and answered smoothly, "Well thank you Axel, but I need someone tall. I think Merle's the tallest one here." She nodded towards him. The others watched carefully, surprised at anyone other than Rick asking Merle to do anything. Daryl was the only who ignored the interplay entirely, focussing on far more important things like the food in front of him.

Merle dropped his fork beside his plate and leaned back in his seat, spreading out his long limbs and resting his arms along his thighs. "Do I have to?" he said, voice rising in pitch, sounding more like a whiney kid than Carl ever had.

"No of course not Merle," Carol replied, unperturbed, lifting one shoulder, "I can just give that extra helping of plum crisp to any other tall person who'd like to volunteer."

"Plum crisp?" Merle's face changed suddenly. His eyes lit up, he leaned forward, cocked his head and went very still. Carol wasn't sure quite how a man of his size and demeanour could suddenly look so much like an excited twelve year old. "We got plum crisp?"

"Mmn," Carol answered quietly. "That's what's for afters. " She waited a moment then added deliberately, "with custard."

"Well, I…uh. Guess I could help you out." He shrugged then leaned back in the chair again, carefully nonchalant. "Got nuthin' better to do."

"Well thank you Merle. But you know, you're really helping the group out, not just me."

"Yeah, whatever," he replied, moving a shoulder dismissively, but couldn't hide his anticipation for dessert.

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**To be continued…**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank to my kind reviewers. I am glad I have been able to convert people to a ship they might not have thought of/were a bit worried about. (Really, I'll ship Merle with just about anybody –and I intend to!). I hope the ongoing story justifies your faith in me, given the comments about wanting to see where I am going with this. I should warn you right now – it's not going to be anywhere too deep and meaningful!**

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"You know, Ah know what you're up to," Merle said, his gravelly tones softer than usual. He gave Carol a knowing sidelong glance as she handed him jars of preserves to arrange on the top shelf of the galvanized metal rack. They were in the smallest of the rooms designated as a pantry, barely more than a walk-in cupboard, lit with a couple of candles. Merle had hung his shirt on a nail and was working bare-armed in a wifebeater that had started off as white.

"You do, huh." Carol wasn't so sure he did. She'd taken care to be on his left side so that she could use the curve made between his body and his arm as he reached up to the shelf. Gradually she'd made more free with his personal space, moving casually in and away, easy enough to do in the close confines of the small room, occasionally touching his arm lightly. But despite his gaze flickering once more down her top, he hadn't made any moves that might be considered out of line. _Or promising_.

"Hell yeah Mother Hen. Carrot and stick, darlin', carrot and stick."

"You're gonna have to explain that to me a little more, Merle."

He paused and lowered the jar of plums held tightly in his large work-hardened paw. "Ain't it obvious? Rick's the stick, always lookin' at me with that look on his face, the one that says if I don't toe the line he'll throw me out. Try to, anyhow."

"And the carrot?"

He lowered his head and gave her an indulgent look, as if she was being a little dim.

"Well that'd be you."

"I'm… the carrot?"

"Well yeah. Stuff ya do, anyhow. Git muh clothes washed and mended, coffee how I like it, when we got it… always finding things fer the crippled man to do," he nodded up to the top shelf," to make him feel _big_ and _strong_… an' extra puddin' fer "helpin' out". Showin' me the ree-wards fer playin' nice. But let me tell you that shit don't fly with ole Merle sugar."

Carol looked up at him, a little amused. There was some truth in what he was saying, even if it hadn't been conspired at quite as deliberately as he thought.

"And yet…?" She replied, looking in turn at the jar of preserves, back at him, then slowly, airily around the small room. Her gaze went pointedly to the top shelf, and then just as pointedly back to him to rest expectantly on his face.

"Aw hell woman, I ain't had a plum in a year," he said, hefting the jar in his hand, "you think I'm gonna let someone else get that extra helpin'? Fuck no. Anyhow, like I said, didn't have nuthin' better to do, might as well spend some time alone with a goodlookin' woman than waste the evenin' listenin' to Daryl's bitchin'."

"If you say so," Carol replied smiling broadly now, tilting her head to one side, her blue eyes alight with merriment.

"I do say so, cos I know so," Merle answered, and nodded a little. He stared down at her, and as Carol smiled steadily back up at him there was an odd little moment between them. Carol had been aware of the slow build of tension within her throughout the evening, but now it suddenly turned into a small flare of excitement. Her lips parted and she found herself breathing shallowly, not taking her eyes from his face, not quite able to screw up her courage to make a move, waiting to see if Merle would seize the opportunity.

The focused expression on his weatherbeaten face intensified as he gazed at her, then he suddenly shook himself as if a goose had walked over his grave.

"Well this shit ain't goin' to rack itself," he said tersely, as he turned back to the shelf, thumped the jar into its spot and held his hand out for another, eyes fixed on the rows of preserves he'd been arranging. Carol automatically resumed passing up the jars and they worked together in silence for a while. It gave Carol time to castigate herself for wimping out and not taking the perfect opportunity she'd had to fulfil the purpose of getting Merle alone in the first place. Mental Daryl was not mute either. "Ah ya chickenshit. All ya had to do was put a hand on him. He woulda got the message. Not like he's gonna say no. This is Merle we're talking about." _Oh shut up_, she thought, _people in glass houses….it's not like _you've_ ever got around to it either._

Finally Carol came to the last can and Merle stretched over to push it into place at the back of the shelf, then dusted off his hand down his pants leg.

"Reckon that's done."

Carol nodded silently. Any moment Merle would be walking out the door and she would have missed her chance, but she was unsure how to go about naturally re-creating that moment earlier that had seemed so promising. It seemed too bald just to put her hand on his arm and look speakingly at him. She supposed she really was rusty when it came to this, after all. Disappointingly so.

"You'll be wanting to check that out, make sure I got it the way you wanted it."

"I'm sure it's fine, Merle. I trust you," she answered. Now that the task was done, she might as well just go, and escape the place that had proven to her that no matter how far she had come, there was still some distance to travel.

"Trust? Me?" He gave a short bark of laughter. "Hell baby, that'd be a first."

Carol smiled a little crookedly. She had really only been referring to trusting his ability to follow instructions, and she was pretty sure he knew that. But given his history, and how he had come to join them, his sardonic comment did seem fitting.

"Nope, you better take a look. I don't want you bitchin' later cos I didn't get it right."

"Fair enough." Carol ducked her head in a nod. "I'll get a chair."

Merle frowned quizzically at her, the lines on his forehead creasing heavily. "Shit, no need for that, I'll just lift you up."

Before she could answer yay or nay, he had bent forward and wrapped his good arm around her thighs, and she was still replying, "Oh… all right," in uncertain tones, when he seemingly effortlessly hoisted her up into the air. "Oh!" she said suddenly, grabbing on around his shoulders with one arm to help distribute her weight, and mentally kicking herself for sounding like a giddy schoolgirl. His shoulder muscles were bunched to take the load, and his arm felt like warm iron around her thighs as they lined his torso. It was ridiculously exciting.

_Get a grip on yourself woman. _

Merle put out his left leg, knee bent, to give her something to balance on, and once she put her feet along his thigh she found herself securely braced and able to see everything along the top shelf. Merle had arranged the cans and preserves exactly how she wanted them, large cans at the back, jars set out in date order, those labelled oldest at the front, and in columns according to contents. She couldn't fault it. She nudged one jar a little more into line and said, "It's perfect."

"Alright then." He wrapped his other arm around her, lifting her a little higher, and straightened up. As he lowered her, she somehow got turned around and slid down his front, their bodies pushed closely together, her arms around his neck. She had no time to politely turn her face away as it passed his. It was a long time since she'd been that close to a man. Even longer since she'd enjoyed it. And say what you like about Merle, he was all man. For once he even smelled good, no lingering stench of Walker, just shower soap and clean sweat, coffee and gun oil.

He took a small step, as if he was just shifting his weight really, and Carol found herself pinned between him and the storage shelf, his arms still wrapped around her waist, her hands flat on his burly shoulders.

Merle looked down at her, his face unreadable, set in harsh lines.

"Well now. Ain't this interestin'."

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**To be continued…**


	5. Chapter 5

**Time to ramp up the smut quotient a little. You may want to get a fan or a long cool drink. No? Well don't say I didn't warn you. **

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"Just what's goin on here?" Merle loomed over her, his body hard and warm against hers, solid legs trapping hers against the shelves, as if his grip around her waist wasn't enough to do the job. Oddly, the spectre of Ed never raised its head – Carol felt no fear that if she tried to push Merle away that he would refuse to co-operate. Initially, he might try a little persuasion, but she had no doubt that if she said no, and kept saying no, he would let her go, however disgruntled he might be over it. But she had no intention of saying no. Quite the reverse. She slid one finger back and forth in a minute, considered stroke against his bare skin.

"Exactly what you think."

"You don't know what I think," Merle countered, his expression remaining inscrutable.

"Tell me then. "

"You sure _actin_' like you wanna get it on …" Merle replied, his narrowed blue-grey gaze assessing her warily, then turning thoughtfully to consider the closed pantry door.

"It's locked." His gaze darted back to her instantly. She could almost see the tumblers clicking in his brain. "So's the outer door."

"So if I put my hands on you…" he grimaced as he remembered that _hands_ didn't apply anymore. He moved the one hand he did have up and down against her waist in a suggestive manner. Her skin jumped and prickled and she found her breath shortening. "No one's gonna come bustin' in here draggin' me offa you. And you ain't… gonna cry rape afterwards."

"That's not the way I do things Merle."

He sucked his teeth, still thinking, and Carol waited patiently. No sense rushing things now that the ball was rolling. She was surprised that he was being so cautious, despite his interest. And he _was_ interested. The way they were pressed together, she could feel his _interest_ rising. As she took the opportunity to slide her hands higher and stroke a thumb against the back of his neck, he shifted restlessly.

"What about Daryl?"

"Daryl? A threesome? Well, I've… never tried that before. But if you insist."

"That ain't what I meant woman, and you goddamn know it. Ain't you and he… you know?"

"Daryl is my very dear friend."

"I know he ain't puttin' it to you… _yet. _Boy always was slow when it comes to bitches. _Women_," he amended, frowning even as he made the change. Almost absently he slid his hand down to cup her arse. "But won't it fuck things up for you? I seen the two of you together – ain't you after some of his hard candy?"

"Merle, I really think that's enough about Daryl." Her tone was firm, uncompromising, and she decided it was time to open the dance. Standing on her toes she canted her head to one side and kissed him.

Nothing fancy, nothing out of the ordinary, just closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and pressed her lips to his. He went stock still, and she began to gently move her lips against his, coaxing him, trying not to worry about what that stillness might mean. Suddenly he let his breath out in a short taut rush and started kissing her back, no hesitation now, mouth opening on hers, lips warm and firm and experienced. His stubble brushed against her, he tasted of coffee and bourbon _and where had he got that_ and then his tongue was in her mouth and he was pressing against her and all the shifting tense breathlessness coalesced into a warm melting feeling and she was urging him on with one hand against the back of his neck and the other was sliding up his bare skin under his top and she was tonguing him back.

Merle broke away and his lips went to her neck, mouthing it firmly, then he touched his tongue to her skin and she gasped and shivered. To get a little of her own back she kissed her way up to his ear, took his earlobe in her teeth and bit down gently. He quickly swapped over the position of his arms so that the attachment was pressing her to him, and his good hand went to her jaw to turn her face up to him, as he kissed her harder then flickered his tongue rapidly in and out of her mouth. She barely had a chance to respond before his mouth was against her neck again, same spot as before, and she let out an involuntary moan of pleasure and moved against him. Merle made a "hhnnh" sound of knowing triumph. She would have been piqued at his smugness if what he'd done didn't feel so damn good.

She turned back to him and pulled his head down, meeting him with an open and eager mouth. He cupped his hand against the curve at the back of her head, but had no need to drive her on, his kisses were doing that for him, hot and wet and urgent. They kissed for long moments with an intensifying hunger that set her senses reeling, before Merle lifted his head.

"Woman you better be damn sure about this." He rasped harshly then his mouth was back on hers, hard and unrelenting. With a gasp she pulled away, panting, and pressed two fingers against his lips, nodding, just a pause while she caught her breath enough to speak.

"I'm not asking you to marry me Merle."

"Just to fuck you."

She swallowed hard. It didn't get much plainer than that. "_Yes_."

"Guess I can oblige."

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**To be continued…**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks again to my fabulous reviewers, it really makes my little fangirl heart proud when someone is kind enough to comment and say what they are enjoying about my story. Sometimes it even gives me ideas! **

**To kadieliz, "**May I say this is fantastic?" **Well... Ok. You can say that. If you insist.**

**To Ashvarden****, "**and the end, loved it". **I do love me a good cliffhanger…** **And I only just realised how similar it was to Merle's "guess I can help you out" comment about shelf stacking in chapter 3, tee hee. **

**Also just realised I have never put in any disclaimers. Obviously I don't own TWD. Because if I did there would be A LOT MORE SMUT. (Especially with NR and MR. Although, not together. Umm… unless it was "a threesome? Well, if you insist.")**

**And now … more smut. **

**(I'm hoping Merle isn't too OOC for anyone). **

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Carol was agreeably surprised that Merle spent a long time kissing her very thoroughly, the two of them still leaning against the shelving, Merle's hand roaming her body lightly with a knowing touch, stirring her into a heady arousal. She wouldn't have pegged Merle as being the type that was into foreplay; in fact she thought Merle's idea of foreplay would consist of saying, "You awake?" But she was wrong, and she was enjoying being able to touch him too, running her fingers over the smooth pale skin that covered hard muscle, and relishing his twitching response. Eventually she ran her hand down to the front of his pants, pressing her palm against him through the cloth and stroking back and forth, watching his face closely.

He lifted both arms up to rest them against the shelves, leaning over her, pushing himself against her hand, eyes closed in concentration as he breathed heavily, his mouth open just a little. She slid her free hand up under his tank top to brush a thumb across his nipple in time with her steady movements lower down. Merle's breath was harsh against her ear as she intensified the pressure down south, and when she bent forward to mouth his other nipple through the ribbed fabric of his top, he damn near choked.

Suddenly his hand darted downwards and took her wrist in a tight grasp, stilling her movement. She still had a thumb free though, and brushed it over the head of his hard prick. He pulled her hand clear with a _tch_ sound, then ground out, "Woman you better stop that _right_-now or it'll all be over and we're gonna have to wait fifteen minutes before you get to have any more fun."

"Really?" Carol looked up at him, trying not to sound too smug. She hadn't thought he would be that quick off the trigger in response to a simple hand job. Perhaps it was just as well he had stopped her when he did.

"Oh you know damn well what you're doin'." He stepped back, dropping her wrist, and made a visible effort to get his breathing under control, his solid chest noticeably rising and falling.

Carol smiled as impishly as she knew how. It was certainly very rewarding to see how stirred up he was; nothing wrong with a little _quid pro quo_. She always took pleasure in a job well done.

"Well I guess we could take time-out to slow down a little and slip into something a little more comfortable," she replied, crouching down to fossick under the bottom shelf. She'd had the forethought to squirrel away a couple of blankets and a pillow so that if things came off (so to speak), they would have something more comfortable than the hard floor to lie on. Carol flipped out the blankets and put the pillow to one side.

"When I slip into something a little more comfortable it's gonna be you."

"Merle!" Carol was shocked as much by the quick wit of his comment as its crudeness. If anything, she would have expected something more along the lines of, "while you're down there..." Merle was confounding her in more ways than one.

He simply grinned unrepentantly, even white teeth showing in his wide smile, laughter lines creasing deeply, as he lounged back against the shelving.

"What you got there?" he nodded towards the blankets.

"Something to lie on," Carol replied, spreading them out neatly and pulling the corner of one away from where it had fallen across Mere's booted foot. She picked up the pillow, a nice full squashy one, plumped it up and arranged it across the top of the makeshift bed.

"Ah-huh." Something in Merle's tone made her crouch back on her heels and look up at him, only to see him contemplating her, his body still and his head tilted to one side. His features were set in an assessing expression, frown lines coming into play now. She suddenly wondered if he resented her for seemingly having taken success for granted. No one wanted to be thought easy, surely – even Merle.

"Shit, you musta been a Girl Scout."

"Actually? I was." She smiled, reached into the pillowslip and pulled out a strip of condoms, waving them a little to draw his attention to them, then placed them in a handy location next to the pillow. After what she'd learned about Merle having had the clap, there was no way she was letting him near her without using them. "Stay safe," mental Daryl chose to suddenly make a reappearance with unwelcome raillery. _Now's not the time friend. _She left the lubricant tucked into the linen – after the state Merle had got her into, they weren't going to be needing that, no sirree.

Merle nodded sourly at the condoms, not even bothering to raise an argument about them, but instead then snorted, shook his head in wonder at her having them to hand and said, "What the hell kinda Girl Scout _were_ you?'

"The kind that knows to _be prepared_."

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**To be continued…**

**There will be something of a hiatus while I write some more. Not as long a hiatus as the one mid-season Three. Because I am not as cruel as AMC. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello again. Sorry this chapter is a little short. I've been finding it a bit hard to write lately. But better a short chapter than none at all, I always say. **

**The research for this chapter was a curse, a curse I tell ya. I had to check out all these pictures of Michael Rooker with his shirt off. It's a dirty job but someone's got to do it. All in the name of fine literature…**

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Merle stepped over to the far side of the blanket and sat down facing her, knees bent, feet flat on the floor, and leaned forward to pull on the laces of his left boot. Carol wondered briefly at a one-handed man that was determined to still wear laced-up boots (_how did he do them up_?), and reached over to tackle the other one herself. In moments she was kneeling at his feet, pulling off the untied boots one after another, easing them carefully around his heels, to drop the boots behind her well out of the way. His socks followed swiftly.

Looking up Carol found Merle had raised his hand up over behind his head and swiftly hiked off his wifebeater, tossing it over by the boots. She was a little disappointed at that; she had been looking forward to stripping it off him herself. She took a long frank look at his bare upper body. There was no denying the man had an impressive physique.

His stomach was not flat, but the curves were well-defined heavy muscle, rising into a solid chest sprinkled with a few sparse wisps of greying curly hair. He had prominent collarbones, and his body was topped by a pair of burly shoulders with nicely moulded deltoids, offset by powerful arms that had clearly defined biceps and strong shapely forearms. His skin was pale and smooth, inviting to the touch. He seemed considerably thinner and more toned than when she had known him back at the quarry. That seemed so long ago now. They were all leaner and fitter; nothing like surviving an apocalypse to get you in shape.

His chest had a few small scars, and there was a long thin silvery one that ran across his stomach just above the waistband of his pants. But the one that really caught Carol's eye was just below his ribs on the right side of his torso; a small round scar embedded in a circular sunk-in section of flesh. It looked much like she would imagine a… "Is that a _bullet_ wound?" she asked incredulously, her hand going out to finger it lightly. He did not flinch, but she gained the impression he had steeled himself to her touch. She slid her fingers around to his back, and sure enough felt a matching larger scar there. _The exit wound_.

Merle shifted a little uncomfortably under her hand. She'd not seen him look uneasy before.

"T'aint nuthin. Through and through."

Although Carol was tempted, for his sake, to drop the subject, she found it intriguing, and given how scathing Merle usually was of _feelings_ and _all that pussy shit_, he could hardly use his discomfort now as an excuse to avoid talking about the scar.

"How did you get this?"

Merle said nothing for a long moment, his head moving back and forward a little, then, uncharacteristically terse, "Gulf War."

"The first one?" She sought clarification.

"Yeah."

"Desert Storm." She said, just to be sure.

"Yeah. Didn'tja know," Merle said sourly, "I'm a genuine goddam war hero."

"No," Carol replied softly, looking open-eyed at Merle, "I didn't."

"Well now ya do," his tone was curt, "and I kin think of lots better things for yer hand to be doin' than that." Merle promptly removed her hand from his side and placed it firmly on his pants front, pushing her palm into his erection which had flagged somewhat from earlier. A few steady strokes quickly revived it, and Merle's demeanour perked up considerably in response to her ministrations.

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**To be continued…**

**Ok almost none of the above was planned initially, but if you google-image "Michael Rooker shirtless", about the fourth image that appears (which comes from MR's twitter posts), shows a damn fine bod for anyone, especially a man in his fifties. He has an odd little circular dent right where I've described it. Maybe it's just a trick of the light, but it gave me plot bunnies for Merle. **

**Aaaand… then… on with the smut. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Firstly apologies to my loyal readers for how long it took me to get this chapter out, and thanks to all those who offered words of encouragement to do so, via "Doghouse" reviews and PMs. (For those of you who have no yet encountered "Doghouse", in flagrant self-promotion I urge you to check it out; it's a humorous piece which is a spin-off from Plum Crisp).**

**I've had bad writers block on this one so it's been a good exercise in self-discipline to keep going and get this chapter done. Hopefully this will break the drought and future chapters will flow a bit more freely. **

**DISCLAIMER: obviously I don't own TWD cos if I did I'd be too busy parting with the likes of Rooker and Reedus to hang about writing fan fiction.**

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Merle's hand moved quickly to the front of his pants and in moments he had the top button undone and was working his way down the rest. Carol wondered briefly at a one-handed man who still insisted on wearing button down pants. It seemed Merle was unwilling to make any concessions to his disability, and truth to tell he still seemed more capable with one hand than most men did with two. She could tell, since her hand was on it, that he still dressed to the left, and that must be awkward with no right hand to flip it out, but clearly he had little interest in changing the habits of a lifetime. Or at least, that habit.

He pushed back the heavy cotton fronts of his pants and in a matter-of-fact manner took Carol's hand, sliding it under the waistband of his grey fitted boxers until it encountered his prick, hard and heavy, the skin smooth and silky against her palm. She knew her cue, and wrapped her hand about it firmly, enjoying the contrast of the hot solid flesh and satiny skin, sliding her hand slowly and steadily back and forth. Merle was kneeling now, resting back on his heels, and he closed his eyes, breathing steadily and enjoying the pleasure a woman's hand on his dick brought him.

"Is this the way you like it?" Carol asked softly, watching his face. She didn't need to really ask; she knew the basics, she could tell from Merle's reaction that he was enjoying it, and she had no doubt that if he hadn't been, he would not hesitate to show her what he liked.

"Yeah baby," Merle murmured swiftly, absently, eyes still closed, closely focused on the feel of her soft smooth hand. He caught his breath a little as she swirled her thumb up and around the head of his prick. His "Yeah just like that" was a little distracted sounding. He opened his eyes to look at her, rueful amusement in his blue-grey gaze. When he spoke again, he was a little less _distrait_. "You know exactly what you're doing."

"Well maybe not exactly," Carol replied, ramping things up a little by repeating the move and then tracing her thumb back and forth across the slit, causing Merle to close his eyes momentarily and repress a grimace of pleasure, "but I think I have a fair idea."

"Hell I'd say you have an _un_fair idea. Just as well I don't mind evening things up," Merle said. He moved lithely, and suddenly Carol let out a small squeak as she found herself being tumbled sideways onto the blanket, Merle's muscular arms around her, controlling her fall.

In moments she was on her back with him on top of her, his large solid body covering her, supporting his weight on his elbows as he kissed her, at first with firm determination and then with increasing urgency. His groin pressed down hard against the crease of her thigh, and she instinctively began to move against him in slow upward circles. The hands that had initially clutched at his back as he'd flipped her down, moved now, one up to his neck, sliding up to caress her fingers through his clipped hair. The softness of it surprised her. The other arm was laid closely across his waist, but with no conscious decision on Carol's part her hand moved to Merle's ass, to press him more closely against her in time with her roiling movements, her tongue matching the rhythm.

Still kissing her, Merle's hand went to her breast, and then he suddenly lifted his head, making a mutter of displeasure. She had just begun to concern herself over what it was he didn't like, when his hand moved to the hem of her top and started to pull it upwards. Quickly she mirrored his actions and in moments their combined efforts had the top dragged off over her head and cast to one side.

"Tha's better." Merle took advantage of the way she'd lifted her upper body a few inches clear of the floor, and slipped his hand around her back to the clasp of her bra. Seconds later her bra was undone (_left-handed! Impressive!)_, Merle dragged the straps off her shoulders and then tossed the bra to one side.

Swiftly his large hand was back on her breast, cupping it, lightly squeezing, and running a thumb over her hardened nipple. She automatically arched up into it, closing her eyes and enjoying the sensual pleasure of his touch. His hand was a working man's hand, big hard and calloused, and a complete contrast to her own. She murmured in pleasure, and in another moment Merle's mouth was on her other breast, his warm wet tongue mimicking the motions of his hand, flickering over her nipple then his mouth closed on it to suck hard. The twin action of mouth and hand stirred her greatly and she moved restlessly underneath Merle's ministrations. She thought if he still had a right hand it would have tending to her clit, and he'd be able to feel just how wet he was making her.

"You got real nice titties." Merle's voice was a little ragged. He did not cease his attentions to her body.

"Really?" Carol queried in disbelief. She didn't need false compliments. She'd thought Merle would be all about size, and apart from when she was breast-feeding Sophia, she'd never been larger than a B-cup.

"Mmm." Merle's response was perfunctory, and she certainly didn't mind that his mouth was busy with... _other things. _After a moment her tone filtered through to him, and he looked up to find her regarding him, a quizzical look on her face. He caught on immediately. "Oh, sure they ain't that big, but they're a real nice shape, and they're kinda…perky." He tugged lightly on the nipple as he said the last word. Carol tried not to gasp too hard.

Good to know that all those years of wearing a good bra had paid off. Perky huh. She'd always been proud of the fact that even after having a child her boobs hadn't drooped; pretty good for a woman in her forties.

"I'm glad you like 'em," she replied breathlessly, running her hand up his arm to stroke his shoulder. It felt so good to touch him; he was so hard and warm, with that incongruous baby-fine fair skin everywhere the sun hadn't touched.

"Oh I like 'em just fine." Merle proceeded to show her just how much he liked them, licking and sucking and stroking until she was panting with pleasure, her fingers digging in tightly to the heavy muscles where his shoulder and neck met.

Delightful as this was, Carol was starting to feel like she wasn't pulling her weight, just lying back and letting Merle do all the work. Propping herself up on her left elbow, she reached down with her other hand to hook a finger around one of his. She drew his hand up to her lips, and flickered her tongue along his middle finger. Merle lifted his head from her breast and watched, his pupils hugely dilated, his irises just a thin rim of blue around the black, as she tilted her head to one side and ran her tongue along then around the finger, slipping upwards then delicately tonguing the gap between the fingertip and closely trimmed nail. Merle let out a hiss when she brushed her tongue back and forth over the supple webbing between his fingers. Carol glanced briefly at him and then repeated the action with the next space.

Just as Merle grunted and began to shift she headed him off at the pass, dropping his hand and pressing hers firmly against his chest, pushing him back. Somewhat to her surprise, he complied, rolling onto his back, but taking her upper arm in hand and resolutely drawing her up and over him. She knelt astride him and settled her weight down onto her heels and his thighs, careful about where she positioned herself. Squashing any… _vital_ parts, would really spoil the occasion.

She had planned to tend to Merle straight away, but his hand went again to her breast, his other arm resting on her hip. She couldn't help putting her arms behind her head and arching into his hand, slowly surging against his skilful grip, gently rocking her thigh against his erection, her eyes closed in sublime pleasure.

"You look good baby. Take your pants off."

Carol smiled in slow amusement at the contrast in Merle's tone, from the husky pleasure of his observation, to the brisk authority of the order. She'd do what he said, but in her own way. Eyes still closed, she dropped one hand to her pants button, the other to the breast that had been left stranded by Merle's missing right hand. As she slowly undid her pants, she copied the motions Merle's remaining hand was making on her right breast, with her own hand on the left, giving him a show. She continued the slow roil of her thigh against his prick. She was very glad that Merle was exercising some self-restraint and hadn't just pushed her down and taken her. This was all so much better; and still left them plenty of time to build up to more … _vigorous_… activities.

Once her zip was undone, she stood up carefully, and quickly stripped off her trousers, tossing them carelessly aside. She was not vain about her body, considering that she had little to be vain about, but did not think Merle would be too critical of her appearance. She still had boobs and an ass, despite the boniness of her limbs and ribs, and her stretch-marks, once very obvious, had faded down into soft silvery barely-visible lines. Besides, there was that whole apocalypse thing going on; he was lucky to be getting any trim, regardless of its quality.

"Jesus Carol, you go commando?"

"Tonight I do." She smiled mysteriously, and moved back down over him, this time pushing his legs apart so she could put one knee in the space, the other off beside him. Her hand went back to his prick, which had not lost any of its interest in her. She slowly repeated on his prick the motions her tongue had previously made on his fingers.

"What about the rest of the time?"

"You may never know," Carol replied archly. She saw no reason to tell Merle that the reason she was bare-assed tonight was that she had inventoried her small collection of underwear – it could not be conceivably described as_ lingerie_ - and had come to the sad conclusion that there was nothing in the worn, tattered, saggy-elasticked assortment, that was fit for a seduction scene. And if she was going to do this, she was at least going to do it right. So she had chosen to wear nothing, rather than kill the mood with nanna-knickers.

Judging by the look on Merle's face, and his quickened breathing, she had made the right decision. Lord only knew what he was envisioning about "the rest of the time".

She leaned forward, resting her free arm against his upper chest, keeping her other hand busy, and placed light kisses across his broad chest. He ran his hand over her shoulder and back, stroking her with his thumb, then his body went rigid as she simultaneously flicked her tongue over his small pale nipple, and her thumb over the slit of his prick.

"Oh, do you like that?" Carol inquired innocently. At least, she made it sound innocent.

"Woman, don't make me spank you," Merle warned, an amused little growl in his voice.

Her stomach went taut, but she pressed the unwanted alarm down; she knew he only meant it in play. She diligently re-applied her mouth to his nipple, slipping her tongue back and forth, then gently took the nipple between her teeth, tenderly tugging.

Time to get some real work done.

She brushed her lips against the nipple, then slowly trailed them down his body, kissing and licking, blowing gently over the tiny wet patches, and enjoying Merle's shivers at the contrasting sensations. She skimmed her tongue over his skin, briefly circling his belly-button, and continued on down, down…

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**To be continued… Hell yeah!**


	9. Chapter 9

**OK I was holding off posting this until I could write the counterpart that goes along with it. But since it was otherwise ready to go, due to popular demand (Hi Athlete's Girl! Gidday Peta 2! Howdy Buster's Jezebel!) I have decided to post it right frakkin now. So it's short but sweet. **

**Be warned it's definitely earning the M rating, so if fairly explicit sex is not for you, well just go elsewhere. But if you are into the smut, this chapter is for you. **

***************WARNING*****EXPLICIT SEX**********DON'T SAY YA WEREN'T TOLD********

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Carol slowly drew her closed hand up around Merle's hardness, then followed the same path with her tongue. Merle let out a quiet sigh. Carol trailed her tongue back and forth, up and down his prick as it rested against her hand. Carefully she ringed the head with just the tip of her tongue, holding her mouth away and just allowing her warm breath to mist over him. She flickered her tongue along the opening, incidentally tasting the salty slipperiness that had begun to moisten the tiny fissure.

Merle adjusted the pillow to a more desirable position under his shoulders, crooked his right arm behind his head in order to get a good view, and dropped his hand to the back of her head, lightly drawing his fingers through her soft curls. He resisted pushing her head down onto him, or making any effort to control her motions, simply letting her pleasure him as she willed.

Her tongue made long slow strokes upon him, then she fastened her mouth over him, gently but firmly sucking as she drew it back and forth along the upper part of his length. Suddenly she plunged her mouth down as far as she could go, taking in as much of him as she could. She revelled in his immediate harsh gasp. There hadn't been many men before Ed, but every one had made the same noise when she'd made that move. Carol kept her lips tightly around Merle and for long moments sucked and stroked him strongly back and forth, using her hand to gently squeeze his balls in time with her strokes. Merle's breathing became rough and uncontrolled, his hand now tight in her hair.

Carol broke away suddenly, continuing to caress his balls, but gasping a little for breath herself. She took advantage of the brief break to drag Merle's pants and underwear down, Merle helping out by lifting his hips, and then kicking off the clothes once they got to his ankles. Both arms went up to rest behind his head as he shamelessly displayed his body for her admiration, the move causing his biceps to flex and bulge. Now refreshed, Carol renewed her attack. Her tongue was everywhere, up, down, running along the faint crease in his scrotum between his balls, mouth covering his prick and sucking him hard, hands echoing the movements of her mouth, a flurry of activity and sensation.

It was turning her on almost as much as it was Merle, her head down and her ass up in the air, the elbow of her spare arm resting across his belly, Merle's gasps and pants taut but increasingly unrestrained, as he muttered the occasional profanity. She found herself getting wetter and the sudden tense grip of Merle's hand into her hair only served to excite her more.

"I'm gonna come!" Merle warned her abruptly, intently, then gasped in disappointment as she moved her mouth off his prick. She slid her hand up it, a few quick hard strokes.

She looked up at Merle with purpose in her eyes, said, "_Good,"_ and in moments her mouth was back on him, determined to bring him to completion. Suddenly there was a choked sound from Merle and his body went rigid then jerked as her mouth filled with salty sticky liquid. She did not greatly care for the taste of come, and the fastest way to get rid of it was by swallowing.

"Jesus," Merle exhaled in stuttering breaths, stomach muscles jumping a little, eyes wide as he watched her lightly stroke her tongue a few more times along his still-firm cock, gathering up her spit and his lingering come and swallowing again. He dropped his head back, closed his eyes and allowed time for his breathing to return to normal.

Carol smiled a little archly. There was no doubt Merle had enjoyed that. She'd thoroughly enjoyed doing it. Now, she was willing to give him a few minutes to recover and then she expected some attention herself. She planted a few kisses on his body as she made her way up to lie along beside him, draping a leg over his, and her arm over his sturdy sweaty chest. He pressed a kiss into her hair and draped his arm over her too, the prosthesis not entirely comfortable but not so awkward that she was going to ask him to move his arm. Despite her level of unreleased arousal, it was very pleasant to lie there with him, as he sighed in contentment.

"That was damn good."

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**To be continued…. Shit yeah!**


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